


Old Friends

by pumpkinknives



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Kind of angsty, One Shot, especially around the end, im not good @ tagging yet sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 08:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19764835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinknives/pseuds/pumpkinknives
Summary: Hawkfrost finds a familiar face at the border between Starclan and the Dark Forest.





	Old Friends

**Author's Note:**

> howdy! this is my first fic on this site, so I do apologize for any mistakes I might've made (along with oocness), but I hope y'all enjoy this quick oneshot!

“It’s been a while, huh Hawk?”

The sentence that broke the tense silence between the two was followed by a pitiful, nervous laugh from the gray speckled tom. Hawkfrost narrowed his eyes at the nickname the Starclan cat had given him, whose anxious smile faltered immediately. The name reminded him too much of his old life, when he still had his childhood innocence as a loner. He felt like his life went by like a running stream. One day he was a Riverclan kit nearing apprenticeship, wrestling with his sister by the Sunningrocks after the two had snuck out while Leopardstar wasn’t looking, and in the next, his vision blurred as he bled out on the riverside, the wound caused by the obnoxious and cowardly cat he didn’t dare to call a brother after Ashfur and his attempt to sabotage the leader for Brambleclaw’s gain. 

How Ashfur managed to reach the stars while he didn’t was beyond Hawkfrost.

“It seems you decided to switch sides last minute.” His voice was gravelly, the black liquid that oozed out of his throat and the stake that followed him after death being the ones to blame. His dark, ragged, and stained pelt was a big contrast to Ashfur’s, whose light gray coat was freckled with stars and his death wound replaced with many bright yellow flowers blooming around his neck, covering whatever scar must of been there. A petal floated down to his paws every so often, which left a trail behind him, leaving the only evidence shown that someone had reached the border. It gave him a more angelic, flawless appearance.

However, Ashfur was by no means an innocent cat. Blinded by his own greed to have Squirrelflight as his own and the lovesickness that tore his heart to shreds like buzzards ravaging a fresh carcass, he quickly found comfort under Hawkfrost’s wing. Both of them remembered the day they had met, when the colorpointed Riverclan cat found his prey: a mourning Thunderclan cat seeking revenge on the poor she-cat. Ashfur was easily manipulated by the tom, and occasionally spilled his heart out about the ginger feline to him in an act of trust, with Hawkfrost only partly listening. The gray tom found himself quickly befriending the other, much to the deputy’s delight and dismay. His help to capture Firestar in the fox trap only lead to Hawkfrost’s death. He hated how he just stood back and watched in the nearby bushes. He hated how he did nothing as Brambleclaw scrambled to get the stake out of the ground and rammed it into his neck.

He hated Ashfur for his cowardice. 

Even in death he seemed like a coward. Shuffling his big paws and his tail failing to stay in one spot, he seemed nervous, if not _afraid_ of the cat in front of him, who couldn’t get near him even if he wanted to. It only infuriated Hawkfrost even more, his long ears pinned back against his head as he stared directly into Ashfur’s deep, pupiless blue eyes. The Starclan cat could practically feel the aggression that radiated off of him.  
Instead of tucking his tail and running away like Hawkfrost wished he did, Ashfur let out another soft chuckle. “I don’t know why I’m here either. I would expect after what I did I would be in there with you.” Sorrow laced his last sentence, which made the brown tom quirk a brow. He seemed...mournful. Like he actually regretted what he had done. What an idiot.

“I’m about as surprised as you,” Hawkfrost grunted, “after helping me take down your leader and the fire scandal...How did you do it? What did you do that redeemed yourself in the eyes of Starclan?” Ashfur’s expression dampened even more, his eyes half lidded. He must of struck a nerve, most likely by mentioning the fire incident. Only a fool would let this mad cat into Starclan after he assisted in assassinating his own leader and threatened to murder his former love’s children. The blood on Hollyleaf’s paws was justified. And yet there he was, walking amongst the stars while Hawkfrost was cursed to wander this desolate wasteland for the rest of eternity, suffering from his constant open wound. Just the thought of the other tom getting better treatment made his fur bristle.

“I don’t know,” Ashfur sighed, his nervous fidgeting coming to a halt, “if I knew I would’ve told you.” Hawkfrost only responded with another grunt. All that remained was more heavy silence, just like when Ashfur first trotted up to the border. Ashfur’s brows furrowed, seemingly deep in thought. Hawkfrost just stared, waiting for whatever statement to come out of the fool’s mouth as his own slim tail curled around his paws. 

“...I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

The Dark Forest resident perked up his ears at that heavy sigh. For once, he actually looked intrigued about the meaning of that sentence. The Starclan tom’s gaze averted from Hawkfrost’s piercing stare, seemingly desperate to look anywhere else except for his cold, ice blue slits. The gray tom’s ears flattened against his head. “I mean it, Hawkfrost,” His voice was soft and quiet, “I should’ve just...let her go. Let her be with Brambleclaw. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get in the way of making her happy-”

“But you did,” Hawkfrost interrupted the other’s rambling, “and there’s no way to change the past. You already commited your sins, and now you have to live with them.”

“I know, I know,” Ashfur’s head lowered, a growing sadness clouding his dark blue eyes, “but...I wish I could have convinced you to not go through with your plan, too.”

Hawkfrost didn’t know if what he felt was sympathy or pity, but both weren’t emotions he was used to. They weren’t emotions he would willingly admit to, either. “My point still stands. You can’t change the past, and I can’t either. Where we stand now is where we will be for the rest of our lives. All wishing is going to do is make you miserable.” The pure ice in his tone was enough to make a cat shiver. Ashfur solemnly nodded, “I know, I know…”

The silence returned. The same sickening, gut-wrenching silence that loomed over the two. Ashfur refused to even look at Hawkfrost now, instead staring at a patch of dead grass on the colorpoint’s side of the border. “I should head back,” It was the third time Ashfur had broken the silence, “I don’t want anyone to find out the only friend I have left is you.” Hawkfrost didn’t know what that final sentence did to him. It was a simple one, and he knew Ashfur didn’t have any malicious intent with saying that, but the tom felt his heart sink a bit. As he watched Ashfur tread back to the group with a quick ‘goodbye,’ Hawkfrost was quickly left alone with his own thoughts. Even when the speckled tom’s star-littered pelt was out of sight, he still remained in his spot, as if he were glued there. He felt the swirling hatred in his belly starting to shift on him.

There were times the Riverclan cat had genuinely enjoyed the other tom’s presence. It was mainly the small moments, like where he’d occasionally tune into Ashfur’s rambling about his lost love, or watch as a sad smile creep up on his muzzle when Hawkfrost made a poor attempt of consoling him. Even their nightly meetups to discuss a plan, there were times where he didn’t feel annoyed when he was around the tom. It was genuine emotion, actual delight of being around another cat, which was something he hadn't felt in a long while.

Only after Hawkfrost’s death, only _now_ , he started to realise those things. Maybe, in a way, Ashfur was right. Maybe things could have changed if the Thunderclanner was in the right mindset, and if the deputy didn’t take advantage of his damaged heart. Maybe he could of actually befriended Ashfur like he tried to do with him. He hated that he only just realised this. He hated that he just realised that he could of been subjected to change, that he could’ve been a good cat, and now has to lie in the bed he made. He hated that it took one Thunderclanner to make him feel like this.

He hated himself for being the idiot that he was.


End file.
